Song of a Nation
by The Graveyard Hag
Summary: Before Tortall is its own nation it belongs to a group of recently liberated states that have agreed to refrain from war, but that is soon to change. Can a girls courage help save the land and form a nation? contains magic, violence, some language & love
1. Chapter 1

_It's late spring about 210 years before H.E (human era), Tortall does not exist as a nation, it is one of many states, left over from the fall of a large empire, held together by mutual consent of lords to belay war with each other and keep trade open. Tortall is the largest and most powerful of the statesl. Immortals have not yet been banished from the living realms and run free alongside humans, sometimes for the good, often for the worse. This is the story of the formation of a nation and those who struggled to make such a feet possible._

Brennawynn peered out across the forest below her. A hunting party had just gone out in pursuit of centaurs that had moved into the forest knowing well that they would not be accepted. She was always worried for her father when he went out on these rides. He was a knight, as noble and strong as any, but even though he had all of the training and dealt with the immortals on a regular basis she couldn't stop herself from worrying when he had to deal with something more cunning, like centaurs.

Knowing that the party would be gone for a long time on their hunt she left the tower wall with a sigh to find something to take her mind off of her father. She headed for the practice fields were the pages and squires would surely be training. Her younger brother was a page and her eldest a squire, she often watched them train, watching the repetitive exercises helped her calm down and think clearly about things.

When she got to the practice area she leaned against the fence adjacent to the archery field. She noticed that many squires who had been missing for a time were back. Many knights had been called to travel with a group of delegates to negotiate with leaders from several neighboring fiefs that had begun to question the pact that had been established to keep peace between them. The knights had gone along in case violence erupted. They were lucky this time, the treaty still held, but it was becoming apparent that the peace was not going to last much longer.

She cleared he mind of any thoughts of war and tried to focus on less heavy subjects. She let her mind drift and before she knew the pages were heading for the bath house. As they passed the fence one of the squires stopped in front of her

"Is it really very becoming for a lady such as your self to hanging around the practice fields?" the squire asked with a grin. Evelyn rested her chin on the palms of her hands and replied,"Oh? It's not as if I'm out on the courts swinging around a sword. What may I ask is undignified about leaning against a fence daydreaming on such a lovely spring day?" The squire leaned in a little closer and glanced around with a exaggerated looked of concern on his face, "Well, Lady Brennawynn, I didn't want to say anything around the other men, but I wouldn't want any of them to corrupt your precious, innocent mind. It concerns me greatly."

Brennawynn smiled widely, her green eyes dancing with amusement, "Are you talking of beasts or men?" she asked. His eyes met hers and he replied wickedly, "Men are beasts, my dear." With that he turned and headed towards the bath house with the rest of the pages and squires. Brennawynn watched him go, he was tall and lean but fit. His eyes were sapphire blue and hair was black and long, tied back into a short horse-tail. She sighed, she preferred his hair short. As soon as all the prospective knights were gone she turned to go back to the manor, maybe the hunting party would be back by now.

That evening dinner was served in the great hall to all the presiding nobles as usual, but today a number of diplomats and knights who normally did not join the court for supper were present were present as well. They were seated at the head table with her uncle Aland, the Duke of Tortall, seated in the middle of the great table. They were dressed in their finest but the demeanor about them was not of prosperity. When everyone was settle down Aland rose and led them in the god's prayers. Brennawynn looked up briefly during the prayers and saw that all of the men at the at the main table had their heads bowed solemnly their hands clasped tightly together, they looked more serious than anyone in the hall. She had seen this look before, her aunt Lorelle had a young son who became very ill two years ago during a wave of sickness. Healand (healer) Marianna had done everything she could, but nothing helped. After they had learned that there was no more she could do Lorelle ran to her son's room, Brennawynn followed but did not go in the room. Lorelle kneeled by her son's bed, her head bowed against the blankets her hands clasped together tightly, lips moving in prayer, tears streaming down her face. Brennawynn had never seen anyone show such strong emotion, but it was one of last resort. Her son died only two days later. Brennawynn saw the same look on the faces of the men. They knew that nothing they did would make the situation better, but they hoped and prayed with all their being that maybe things would look up.

"So mote it be."

The hall echoed with the many voices. Dinner had begun, servants entered with plates of food and pitchers of wine, the people relaxed, and they began to eat, chat and laugh. Brennawynn would have loved to join in on the conversations and jokes, but she couldn't take her mind of off the men at the main table, they had been across the borders and knew the full situation. She looked over at them. They looked as serious as when they walked in but know their heads were bent in towards each other and they were talking in low voices. Vexed that she couldn't hear what they were saying Brennawynn leaned back on her chair and closed her eyes. She took deep breaths and cleared her mind of all the noise around her and focused on the main table.

"I don't think there's a thing were can do about this, my lord," said a clear, young voice, "sure, we can slow it down, but sooner or later it will all take the same path."

"Well, yes," another voice replied, "but surely it's worth trying again?"

"I don't know," yet another new voice added, "we've had two excursions like this that amounted to nothing, I agree with Goldenlake on this. Discussion will only postpone things, but in the end it all turns out the same."

"I don't disagree with you, but---."

Brenna's listening was cut of by a sudden pain in her side. She looked over and saw her sister looking at her sternly.

"That hurt you know," Brenna replied.

"I know. That was the point," her sister replied, "but it was the only way I could get you out of your daydream. Anyway, there's a letter for you."

Her sister pointed behind her and she turned around. A servant was standing there holding a folded piece of paper in his hand. Brenna accepted the letter sheepishly, and as soon as the servant was gone she opened it just enough so that no one else could see it and read it. She turned towards the main table where her dad was sitting and grinned devilishly at him; he always knew when she was listening in on his conversations.

First part done =) I'm trying to keep as close to "fact" as possible as far as gods, fiefs and tortallan history goes, but with a lot of my own stuff put into the mix. It may have mistakes, but that's why I'm writing to try and learn from my mistakes.


	2. Chapter 2

Brenna feigned happiness for the rest of the dinner, but as soon as they were ushered from the hall and she was alone in her chambers she lost the façade and was outwardly upset. She paced around the room, thinking about what this would mean for the state. She knew that Tortall had allies, but how strong were they compared to the others? No one new how many people anyone could muster, not even themselves. They knew how many knights they had and enrolled soldiers, but militias were another matter entirely. There had been no census done since the divide, no one even knew when it happened or what the parent nation was even called. The states had already exceeded what most delegates expected without any kind of real leadership, and now it was apparent their time was waning. She hoped that a new, strong nation could be formed through this, but the violence that would precede it… and if someone undesirable gained power… she didn't like to think of it.

She sighed and sat down on her bed. Sitting in her room wouldn't do anything; at least it wouldn't make her feel any better. She got up and walked over to her wardrobe and threw the doors open. She crouched down, pulled out the bottom panel and took out dark greed breeches, a calf length white tunic and a long-sleeved surcoat in the same shade as the breeches. She dressed in the clothes, put on short brown boots and slipped out the door muttering a few words in hope that her foot steps would be muffled as she made her was through the dark corridors.

She jogged to the page practice fields and squinted in the darkness for the equipment shed. When picked it out amount the shadows she set off briskly towards it, when she reached it she put her hand against the door and pulled gently, the door thudded softly against its frame. Locked. She felt for the lock and once located the closed her eyes and let soft green light envelope her. She heard the lock click and she let it fall in her hand. She gently opened the door, cautious not to let it creak or moan, even though no one was about.

She reached inside and grabbed one of the torches kept to the right of the door and felt for the niche on the wall that held the flint and steel. She closed the door behind her once she had what she needed and stuck the flint and steel by the torch until she had a good flame going. She went to the back of the shed where the bows were hung; she inspected each carefully, but shook her head at the practice ones. Shaking her head she went to the long cabinet where the trainers bows where kept. This also had a lock, but it was easy to open after the first, once she opened it she immediately set her eyes on trainer Olau's bow.

The bow was very old, found in the abandoned stone city on the outskirts of Tortall's state boundaries. The city was nearly in ruins, no one ever went back for fear of being cursed. It was said that at the time humans, animals and gods alike could all easily meet and talk face to face. The stone city had once been large and prosperous, the gods had given the people there everything they asked for, however, the people grew more confident, more greedy, and planned to defy the gods but the gods heard of this before they could act and they decided that it was time the humans in that city were humbled. A great storm of lightning, wind and rain ravaged the city, some fled but most perished. The few survivors spread the tale and most headed that word, although there will always be the few that do not listen.

No one knew just what kind of wood the bow was made of, and most did not like to use it for it emanated an ancient magic that made even ones with their own magic uneasy but Brennawynn loved the bow. It was just the right weight and length and she felt connected to it, as if its magic and her magic were sisters come together after many years apart. Satisfied, she took the bow from its cabinet along with a bundle of practice arrows and remembering her torch on the way out headed for the archery fields, hoping that the sport would clear her head of worry.

_I have decided to add little bits of ancient Tortallan "history" to the end of some of the chapters. This is on language. The Tortallans (remember that it is not a nation yet, only a state) do not speak the same common that they do in the "modern" books written by Tamora Pierce. It is in a transitional stage, not unlike how old English had to go through middle English before reaching the modern English we know today. I imagine it to sound more guttural than English, with words that are very similar but many that are left over from the old language. Also, the dialects are endless. Nobles for the most part speak the same dialect, but common people have varying dialect. It would be impossible to keep tabs on how everyone spoke because it would vary from village to village, state to state._


	3. Chapter 3

Brennawynn stopped at the last, most isolated of the archery practice spaces. She planted the torch firmly in the ground and prepped he bow, carefully bending it attach the bowstring in one fluid movement. She picked up her first arrow, placed it on the string and stretched it and loosed when the string was pulled back to her ear. She watched it fly and felt the satisfaction of success when she heard the thumb of the arrow hitting the target. As she continued shooting she felt better, being able to focus on the bow and arrow rather than the imminent dangers.

She let her last arrow fly and put down her bow. Her aim was improving; she only missed the target a few times and was nearly on center many other times. She unstrung the bow and set it against the fence and was about to go get her arrows from the target when suddenly a voice spoke from behind her.

"Though you'd never be done," the voice said. Brennawynn whipped around, eyes wide to see the same squire from earlier in the day perched on the fence, grinning widely at her.

"Morgan!" she exclaimed, "I nearly had a heart attack! What are you doing here? How long have you been here?"

"I couldn't sleep so I went on a walk about the grounds, " he replied, "didn't expect to see anyone out. I especially didn't expect to run into the niece of Duke Aland practicing her archery. In fact, the way I see it, I should be the one asking questions."

Brennawynn sighed, relaxing again, "I don't suppose you're going to tell anyone about this."

"Won't say a peep," he replied.

"Well," she said, "while you're here you could at least help me collect my arrows"

"Anything for my Lady Brennawynn," he replied, jumping down from the fence. They walked together towards the target, chatting lightly about this and that. They collected the arrows and headed back in the same manner. When they got back to the fence Morgan turned to face Brennawynn.

"I can tell something is bothering you," he said, looking her straight in the eyes, "I assume it has something to do with our campaign to the Diepe territories, so speak up"

Brennawynn's shoulders dropped as she cast her gaze to the ground.

"You always know, don't you?" she said and told him what she had overheard at dinner, "and it's the fact that we needed to send a group of knights with the dignitaries at all. I try to see a peaceful resolve to everything but I just can't. And please don't tell me not to fret about it like everyone else. How am I supposed to ignore a black thunder cloud looming on the horizon?"

"I wasn't going to tell you to ignore it," Morgan replied, "We're all afraid. It's like you said, there's a black thunder cloud on the horizon and it's getting closer every day. We could feel this winds picking up as we left for home. You can't just ignore a storm. You have to prepare, we have to prepare. I don't know every detail as a squire… but I know we're going to have to fight, they aren't going to relent…no one is safe anymore."

Brennawynn looked at the Morgan; his face was serious and sincere. She knew at that moment she had to do something, she had to find out more; she had to protect as many as she could. No one ever told her anything as it was except for Morgan. She was just a woman, weak, unable to defend herself, let alone others. But she knew this was not true. She had more to fight with than most, and she was going to use it. She saw the same determination in Morgan's eyes.

"we're going to beat this," she said, "together."

_I'm sorry this chapter is so short. I've been working on planning further in the story, so I'm kinda all over the place right now. Yes, Diepe is the rebelling state, the meaning is kind of equivalent to deep lake… sorta. I'm not always totally accurate, I like using old English words but don't know the language. Sorry. I try._


End file.
